The Shower
by sahdah
Summary: Soul has a problem. His morning shower just got complicated. A random fluff piece to break up res-bang writing. Thanks to fabulousanima and Professor-Maka for betaing this.


**warnings: nudity, language, awkward social situations

A special thank you to **fabulousanima** , and **Professor-Maka** for beta proofing this drabble.

Soul has a problem. A very large, and rather uncomfortable problem. As far as problems go… shit hits the mother effing fan, because they have one bathroom in their apartment and his roommate is threatening to beat down the door.

"Soul!" Followed by a screech of, "what are you doing?"

"What the hell does it sound like, nerd-brain." Whatever he thought of following that up with dies on his lips as the bathroom door opens.

"Sorry, Soul, I'm coming in," she says matter-of-factly.

It's happened before; usually, it's him crashing her shower time because he's got the bladder of a pregnant woman. Again, one bathroom. His pride has died a time or two after a particularly spicy curry.

They've been roommates for years, so sometimes they brush their teeth together. They're practically life partners in all senses but the romantic one.

So, he gets it. Figures she's just going to go about her thing, get in and get out.

He errs on the "get in and get out." So, it's with a very uncool scream that he chokes out, "Maka, what the actual hell!" as the shower curtain is pulled back and his roommate, meister, and unrequited love interest climbs in the shower. The scythe, burning to shade of purple, turns to face the corner; all he's missing is a dunce cap.

Soul has a very large, and now very excruciatingly uncomfortable problem.

"Why in Death's name is the water so cold?!" The sound isn't so much words as it is ancestral pterodactyl language.

"Why the fuck are you in here?!" He's looking everywhere but the strike zone. Forget that, he's committing the tile pattern, the grout pattern, anything but her physical naked proximity to long term memory- fuck he's committing that, too.

Maka Albarn, his meister, is not to be messed with. The woman wields demon steel for a living.

"Soul, it's five… in the morning. According to a near lifetime living with you, nothing gets you out of bed before noon." She says as she pops the top of his shampoo. Hey, well now he's confirmed why his shampoo keeps disappearing. "Could you at least turn it to a normal temp, please. It's not like I'm looking."

She'd better not be, he hasn't popped a boner like this in… well since that last time he dreamed of her. She doesn't know, and he feels guilty as fuck. Maka doesn't return the feelings, end of sob story.

Soul complies. He knows she doesn't like her showers tepid, so when the stream starts to rise and she lets out a "mmm" of content, he decides his life is over. He could just get out. A cool guy would get out. He can't. Her being there keeps him rooted to the spot. His forehead is against the wall.

"Soul?" she asks cautiously, and when he can't answer, she continues. "I'm sorry, it's just Papa was insistent that I join him today, so he's coming to pick me up early. I already know it's about him proposing to Blair…"

She trails off. He's listening so hard.

The sounds of her furiously scrubbing her hair like it's personally offended her makes him curious and he can feel that she's standing close to him. Her soul is upset, but he doesn't understand why. So like the bag of dicks he feels he is, he sneaks a peek down at her feet.

Soul figures since Maka invaded his space, bikini territory can't be considered trespassing. He's wrong. Her tiny feet are close by and he yelps as his dick twitches, practically weeping. Naked shower toes are much different than naked pool toes.

"I get it already, Death!" Her tone is hard and flat, and clearly at her limit.

He has no idea what she means so he blurts, "What?"

"Look, I'm sorry. I wasn't planning on you hogging the shower. I didn't think it'd be this big of a deal. You've seen me in a bathing suit and I know I'm not your body type, so you don't have to be a dick about it. I'm almost done anyway."

Soul is genuinely confused.

"I'm not being a dick, Jesus- fuck."

"Well then, why are you being so immature- excuse me, can you hand over my loofah?" A hand crosses into his line of sight. Soul wonders if he could potentially pass out from loss of blood. Hands the loofa over his shoulder and promptly gets smacked by it.

"What is your problem?" he retorts.

Sound like air whooshing out of her nostrils greets him. "You are."

Why are his ears so attuned to the sounds of a sudsy loofa over smooth skin? He's actually jealous of the stupid object, and all he wants to do is turn around and offer to take the thing and do the job himself, though he is not worthy.

"I'm sorry you feel that way…?" he responds, questioning so many things. Why is she in here? His heart is spinning out of control; could she have feelings for him? Obviously, she trusts him enough to be in this situation in the first place.

"What kind is response is that, Soul?" Something in her voice makes him turn his face. Wishes he hadn't, because she looks hurt and all he wants to do is wrap his arms around her, but he can't. He'd send her running for the hills.

"Maka." The name is an olive branch, a soft whisper on his lips. "What's really wrong?"

Now she's the one looking away, her face burning pink in the steam. It does nothing to help his situation. "Why can't you look at me?"

He's in a state of alarm. "What are you saying, you want me to look at you naked?" Nothing in life has prepared him for this; she's a complete mystery.

"No, ugh, that's not what I meant." Soul is desperately trying to work this out.

Instead he thinks of what got him into this mess: Maka floating to him in an ethereal glow, Maka wrapping her body around his own, Maka's face buried in his neck.

This is the dream that haunts him. Her wrapping her soul around his to protect him, to save him- Yes, he isn't meeting her eye contact, only because he thinks she'd see it written all over his face in bright neon. _I'm in love with you, you don't feel the same way-_ is the reason he can't look at her at this moment. It would hit too close to home. He'd freak her out. As intimate as they are, that would be too much intimacy for her, and he respects her wishes above all.

Would it be so terrible, he wonders, confessing to her? He'd do anything for her, pay any price, he's known- or finally realized it since the moment Stein had laid his creeper hands on her- he'd die before he'd let anyone hurt her; he'd almost done it, too. He remembers Crona, has Ragnarok's scar as proof.

"I know you don't see me that way," she continues.

Why does she think this way?

"I'm not well...um... like Blair, or Tsubaki-"

"You think too much, you know."

"No, you're just acting strange… like you can't even look at me. It's like you're hiding… something."

Well, it was nice living while he could.

"I'm not in here to cop a look, I just needed to shower. I have seen a penis, you know," she says all blushes.

And against his will he asks, "Who's?" Like he has any right, any claim, to whose penis she sees.

Now she's laughing. "Are you serious? Who else?" When he doesn't answer, she says "Black Star." and his soul dies a little.

"Uh-" he has no words. On the bright side, this news has at least killed his boner… somewhat.

Her laughter is rich and sweet. "Seriously Soul, who hasn't?"

Indeed. Maybe it's the scoff that tips her off.

"Ohmigod, Soul, no not like- ewwh!"

Maybe there is hope for him; she's burning bright, from his periphery.

"He ran out of Tsubaki's room singing something about just having sex, no one saw me, it was so embarrassing. Anyway… I'm so sorry, I just figured since soul resonance… it wouldn't be this… awkward… can I please rinse so I can get out of here…." She's rambling.

He hears several admonishments being muttered under her breath, "idiot," "what was I thinking," and a soft "well now I know." He doesn't realize he's moved until he's close enough to see the water clinging to her wheat blonde hair in a mist.

It's funny how completely natural this moment feels, much the same as soul resonance, but she really trusts him, not just in her soul. Here in the physical tangible world. But he doesn't cross the line, though he feels pulled in by her. "What, Maka?" It's a whisper, but the proximity is still enough to startle her, and without thinking he puts his hands on her arms to steady her.

Green eyes staring into red. The rest of the world doesn't exist. No awkwardness, no nakedness, nothing to hide behind- only two souls in close proximity,

"What do you know?" he asks again. Soul realizes just touching her arms is not enough, but with effort, he removes his hands. He doesn't miss the slight contorting of her features as she watches his hands let go of her body.

She looks off to the side and responds quietly, "How you feel about me."

Wait, _what_? If she does understand how he feels, he can't place why her face is upset like she wants to run. "Is that a bad thing?" He's done it now. She's never going to forgive him. "Maka, I-" How can he say this?

"No, Soul." She's talking before he's had a chance to wrap up his thoughts. "I thought that maybe you liked me, but… but I was wrong. This was…" There's another screech and he realizes she's thinking the opposite, so he has about two seconds to salvage this situation and he'll get to the _why_ she decided to crash his shower later.

"I do though."

Her mouth falls open, and it's really hard not to stare at that, but he's concentrating on her eyes since he wants her to get this through her thick nerd brain, and the only way she does that is when she listens with her heart.

He clears his throat a few times before he swallows and goes in head first. "I was…" He starts over, "I had this dream. It's actually the same dream. When you came to the black room and followed me into the locked chest. It's you."

Green eyes are narrowed following his every word. "It's always been you, I've- you're not interested… haven't been able to tell you. Thought you'd run away." Nothing that has exited his mouth makes any sense. He is focused on her hair because her hands on his jaw snap his eyes back to her face. "What?"

His worthless heart is trying not to die from contact, but he can't speak.

"Soul," it's a whisper under the smattering of water. "Can I kiss you?"

Death yes! Since he can't speak, he brings up his hands to cup her face and meet her halfway. Warm lips, soft breath, but it's the noise she makes that makes him step back into the cooling shower water. Maybe it's for the best because his problem has returned in full force; he lets out a sad whimper.

"Did I do it wrong?" she asks.

The most un-cool 'hng' escapes him. "Maka, I'm naked, you're- you, I, I'm sorry."

His meister's eyes are blinking rapidly, and then they flit down, and then flit back to his face, wide. He isn't sure if he should feel proud, or run and hide. "Oh, oh, oh!"

Well it could be worse. "Guess now you know why I couldn't look at you earlier…"

Looking up, he sees her coming to him, the way she does in his dreams. Her arms wrap around his body and he stoops his taller frame to meet her, his arms curling around her petite figure. He can feel her strength radiating from her as they each stand with heads buried in the other's neck. He is pressed tightly against her stomach. "Maka, I love you."

"Soul." She pulls back to look in his eyes. "I've been so scared to say that to you."

Everything else is drowned out by the sound of Spirit Albarn entering the apartment. "Makaaaaa!"

Soul goes tense, realizing his precarious situation. Maka takes his face in her hands and kisses his lips once more. "Can we talk later?"

He can only nod.

She rinses quickly, turning off the water, holding a finger to her lips. Grabs her towel, hands him his, and then exits the bathroom.

"I woke up late, I need five minutes," he hears her tell Spirit.

"Where is he?" Suspicion coats Spirit's tone.

"He's at Black Star's- Blake's," she says smoothly, voice muffled.

"I'm going to use your restroom," is the last thing Soul hears. He's a goner, but it's been a good run, the last ten minutes probably the best of his life.

Soul has a problem, a very life threatening problem.

There's a prehistoric screech. "No! I'm ready, let's just go!"

The door stops mid-swing, and he gets to live another day. And it's a great thing.

...

His dream has changed: it no longer takes place in the hidden place in his soul; instead, she comes to him in the shower, he goes to her in her room, and really, they're coming to one another because he always meets her halfway.

Being in love with his meister is no longer a problem for Soul.


End file.
